


your shoulder blade, your spine were shorelines in the moonlight.

by thewriter8



Series: turned out i'd been following him and he'd been following me. [3]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: IT FITS WITH THE FIC GUYS, also i posted this before the most recent ep, and omg carlos promising cecil dinner, i'm so sorry these happened to you because they will give you cavities, oh my god cuties in love with sickly sweet headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 15:10:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriter8/pseuds/thewriter8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And really, all of the interns knew what was going on the moment Cecil said 'I fell in love instantly'. Even the new ones, the ones who brought coffee to Cecil, or the ones who filed paperwork for Cecil, or the ones who lost fingers in the paper shredder (not for Cecil, on accident, of course, how could you think such a thing), even they knew what was happening between Cecil and Carlos. It didn't take a rocket scientist or, well, any kind of scientist to figure out, save for Carlos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your shoulder blade, your spine were shorelines in the moonlight.

**Author's Note:**

> all the precious headcanons, i'm so sorry, i'm just not ready to make these two tragic yet because typically everything i write dies.

Cooking was a science, and Carlos loved science. It couldn’t be too hard, right? After successfully dating Cecil for nearly one year, surviving in Night Vale for two, Carlos was ready to tackle anything, knew he could tackle anything.  
So he wrote down the location of a cooking class Cecil announced on his show—bring your best flame-retardant apron!—and he went that Saturday.   
There was Carlos, and six young, blank-eyed children. He wondered if they were even conscious, but then had a feeling they weren’t human in the slightest because they were cooking and baking as if they had been professional chefs for years, at least, in Carlos’s opinion. And the teacher of the class gave Carlos extra eggs and extra time and extra help, because many people struggle the first time, dear, I’m sure you’ve never done more than boil pasta, by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be terrified of blenders and de-boning trout with the best of them.   
He took a breath, followed the instructions given to him, and began making scrambled eggs, then grilled cheese, then roasted chicken and vegetables.  
But it was more overwhelming than Carlos ever expected.  
\----  
Cecil didn't have any mirrors in his home, because he trusted his mother's words. He wasn't really adept at checking his collar for upturns or face for shaving cream in the first place, but without mirrors, Cecil was lost. He came to work many times disheveled and looking like he ran from his morning routine because of a fire in his apartment. The interns never said anything, and later Cecil would notice his pants were inside-out and blush through the rest of the broadcast, change them in the middle of the studio during The Weather.  
So Carlos stopped him one weekend evening, having watched him dress, meticulously slow, as though Cecil was aware of and tried to prevent the fact that he looked like a cyclone ripped through him every time he prepared to go to work.  
"Hey uh. Cecil?"  
"Yes, Carlos?" Cecil turned, having been facing the wall as though pretending there was a mirror there. His shirt was off kilter by one button, tucked into his slacks already, collar not only popped up on one side, but curled under the neckline on the other. Carlos was pleased that Cecil had not cut his face shaving--especially given that he shaves with a straight-razor, the frustratingly sexy bastard, how can he flirt with death like that--though there was leftover cream at the corner of his jaw.  
"Your collar. It's a bit uh. Askew."  
“Oh?” Cecil’s hands flew up and began to fidget with the clothing, flushing so red he was nearly purple. Carlos rose from the bed, smiling reassuringly.  
“It’s not too bad, here. Do you mind if I-”  
“I never mind, Carlos.” Cecil let his arms rest against his sides, and Carlos moved in. His hands made quick work of the collar, giving Cecil’s shoulders an extra squeeze. His hands paused there.  
“Your shirt is uh...”  
“Oh dear. I thought I looked, this isn’t the one covered in blood, is it?” Cecil stared at his arm and Carlos chuckled.  
“No, no, it’s clean. The buttons are just-”  
“Fix me however you must, Carlos.” Cecil flipped his palms up in a surrendered pose, smiled hesitantly at Carlos’s proximity.   
“It’s not so bad, I swear.” Carlos murmured, unbuttoning Cecil’s shirt. He reached the waistband of his pants and met Cecil’s eyes questioningly, but found them closed. So Carlos took his time, because they had it. Cecil always got ready for work extraordinarily early in case of, well, anything, because this was Night Vale and impromptu intimacy was on the bottom of the list of possible morning routine delays.  
Carlos’s hands slipped into Cecil’s pants as far as they could before he fumbled them back out, making a face and unbuckling his belt. Cecil remained still, but Carlos felt a sigh brush against his cheek. He untucked Cecil’s shirt and began to repair the damage done, planting a kiss on Cecil’s lips after each closed button. Carlos buckled Cecil’s belt again, but not before massaging his hips just a little, just enough. He raised himself up on his toes to rest his forehead against Cecil’s, their glasses clacking together.   
“There. Good as new.” Carlos whispered as Cecil finally opened his eyes. Cecil swallowed, running a hand through Carlos’s hair.  
“You know, I forgot today is Casual Friday at the station…I don’t need to wear this.” Cecil said innocently. Carlos kissed him again with a smile.  
“Would you like my help getting read-” The last syllable was lost in Cecil’s mouth. Carlos walked backwards, pulling Cecil by the belt loops, and crashed onto the bed, Cecil following suit and straddling him with ease.   
As Carlos removed Cecil’s shirt again, this time leaving it disheveled on the floor, Cecil made a mental note to move ‘impromptu intimacy’ up on his list of possible morning routine delays. He wedged it between ‘traffic due to pedestrians lingering in road’ and ‘shower sex’, because of course shower sex deserved its own category.   
\----  
It wasn’t that Cecil and Carlos ever found anything mundane. Night Vale made even the most mundane tasks exciting and a bit terrifying. But there was routine, and getting new glasses was part of both Cecil and Carlos’s life. Carlos noticed his glasses weren’t helping his eyes too much anymore, not since he moved to Night Vale (which he’d investigate later, once he could properly see his research again), and Cecil’s latest frames had been obliterated by Khoshekh the last time he used the station bathroom.  
“It was past his feeding time.” Cecil explained, staring—well, squinting—morosely at Carlos’s television, unable to make out the actor’s blurred faces of the romantic sitcom the two were watching.   
“Well, I’ve been meaning to get new glasses. Do you uh. Want to go?”  
“Together?”  
“Yes?” Carlos offered. Cecil remained stoic.  
“You’d like that?”  
“I would. Very much.” Carlos swallowed, worried he had said something terrible, just like last Valentine’s Day, or that time the two went camping, or Christmas when he brought up traditions.  
But Cecil’s face broke into a contagious smile, and he nodded, he nodded like the world was his now, and the world was beautiful Carlos.  
Cecil’s prescription hadn’t changed, but Carlos’s had. He asked what had happened to his eyes to have them go through such a change, but the optometrist said nothing more. Carlos chalked it up to Night Vale taking a piece of him for its own. It didn’t matter right now because right now, he knew Cecil was picking out new glasses for both of them, because he could see him, Carlos could see Cecil without his glasses, dancing around the frames showroom like everyone was blind and they’d never guess who was charming Carlos into dancing with him.  
“Try these on!” Cecil passed Carlos a fifth pair, having already stacked four on his own nose, a feat Carlos didn’t think possible. He placed them on, Cecil giving him a squished up, disapproving face, and Carlos set them down.  
“Can I pick a pair for you?” Carlos asked, Cecil humming some sort of waltz-y tune under his breath.   
“You probably should. I can never decide, we may be here for hours, and-oh.” Cecil looked down at the frames Carlos had placed into his hands, thick square-framed things that seemed to have a purple hue to them either in shadow or in light, Cecil couldn’t tell which. Carlos reached up, removed the four frames Cecil had been dancing around with on his nose, and Cecil put the new pair on.   
“Perfect.” Carlos smiled, and he meant it. And Cecil stared at himself in the mirror, chuckled just a bit, adjusted his shirt sleeves.  
“I think you’ve done it, Carlos. Now. My turn.” Cecil grinned, still wearing the prescription-less frames. He took Carlos’s hands, gave him an elegant spin, and sat him down.  
They settled on the 23rd pair, a sensible, modest, brown rectangle frame. Cecil couldn’t resist kissing Carlos when he put them on.  
\----  
Cecil ate every bite of the dish. Cecil ate every single bite and smiled at Carlos like nothing was wrong. Carlos stared at him like he was another Night Vale mystery (which, to be fair, he still was a Night Vale mystery, just one a bit less threatening than the others Carlos faced daily).  
“Cecil, you-”  
“This is delicious, Carlos, truly!” Cecil interrupted with a full mouth, covering it with a napkin. Carlos flushed.  
“Cecil-”  
“Really, it’s superb.”  
“It’s terrible.”  
“Yes, it is,” Cecil admitted, looking more embarrassed than Carlos, which Carlos didn’t think was possible. Cecil put his fork down, wiped his lips. “But I’m very proud you’re cooking. It’s a talent I’ve never bothered with.”  
“It’s probably one I shouldn’t bother with either.” Carlos smirked, picking up their nearly-full plates. Cecil touched Carlos’s arm before he turned away.  
“That’s not true.”  
“That whole dish was burned and flavored all wrong and-”  
“And so you try again. You’re perfect at everything else, dear Carlos. Give this one more shot.”  
Carlos bent at the waist to plant a kiss on Cecil’s cheek, washed the dishes clean.  
Fine, one more shot. For science. And maybe because Carlos didn’t want his perfect record for perfection tainted.  
\----  
“Listeners, I am taking a moment from the news to announce that I rescued a dog on the way to the station. Now, you may recall that I am strictly a dog person--besides a special place in my heart for Khoshekh--so you could imagine my joy when I pulled over and picked up this adorable Australian Shepherd mix. I know the SPCA is denying the existence of dogs, and I have no park to take it to but, oh my god, if you could see this face, listeners, he is the absolute most precious dog, I-!  
“Oh. Carlos is calling.  
“Hellooooo?  
“Yes, I’m doing my show right now, dear. If I put you on speaker, you’d be on it right now too!  
“…No, I won’t put you on speaker, I swear. What is it?  
“…Uh-huh…  
“But, Carlos, he’s so-  
“I know…  
“He’s adorable, Carlos, you haven’t even seen him, and I know you like dogs too.  
“…Really?  
“Oh, Carlos, you are the most perfect, brave, wonderful lover anyone could ever kill to have! I will see you later…  
“Listeners, wonderful news! Since I am unable to take care of a dog due to my current living situation and the fact that I am a radio celebrity and should be denying the existence of dogs in the first place, Carlos has agreed to adopt this adorable little Australian Shepherd mix!  
“I couldn’t ask for a better anything, dear listeners…  
“And now, The Weather.”  
\----  
Carlos hated the nights when he couldn’t fall back asleep. He never woke with a start or a scream or a surprise, but he always woke as though his alarm had gone off. And, most nights, his body would tell him to stay awake until morning. It was frustrating, of course, but Carlos tried to look on the bright side. He was getting a lot more science done, wasn’t he?  
He spotted Cecil awake across the room, the smallest of lights on. Carlos couldn’t tell what he was doing, his movements so tiny and precise. Carlos put his glasses on and approached him.  
“Another rough night?” Cecil asked in a concentrated voice, not taking his eyes off his work. Carlos noted Cecil was trying to make paper stars. There were multiple crushed paper cranes and boxes littered around his elbows like a battlefield.  
“Apparently I’m supposed to be awake,” Carlos murmured, “right when you’re able to fall asleep.”  
“I’ll stay up with you.” Cecil finally tore his gaze away from the mountain of paper shreds and deformed stars.   
“No, Cecil, you need to rest, you have work tomorrow.”  
“Not until tomorrow evening. I have all afternoon to nap.”  
“Uh…okay. Do you, uh, want to just hang out and talk for a while? Or are you engrossed?”  
Cecil made a rather disapproving face in the direction of the origami he had been attempting, and rose from the desk. “Will you read me some of your science reports?”  
“What, you want to be bored to sleep?” Carlos smiled, following Cecil to the bed.  
“No! I want to learn about what you’re doing. I want to be able to talk to you about it.” Cecil plopped down, releasing a puff of down from the comforter. Carlos grabbed a folder from his messenger bag, sat beside him.  
“You’re sure?”  
“Positive.” Cecil snuggled closer, head atop Carlos’s crossed legs.  
And Carlos began his own narrative, one as enrapturing and tantalizing as Cecil’s evening shows. And Cecil understood very little, so he asked questions. Carlos answered them with patient ease.   
He read until 7 AM, with breaks for midnight popcorn, kisses, and watching the best Vine videos on Youtube.  
The two fell asleep around 11 AM, surrounded by folders full of science and paper stars full of frustration.  
\----  
And really, all of the interns knew what was going on the moment Cecil said 'I fell in love instantly'. Even the new ones, the ones who brought coffee to Cecil, or the ones who filed paperwork for Cecil, or the ones who lost fingers in the paper shredder (not for Cecil, on accident, of course, how could you think such a thing), even they knew what was happening between Cecil and Carlos. It didn't take a rocket scientist or, well, any kind of scientist to figure out, save for Carlos.  
Because Cecil's collars became perfectly folded over and even. Because there was no longer shaving cream tucked behind his earlobe. Because he beamed and became more and more luminescent each day.  
And he started wearing an obscene amount of flannel shirts, all of which didn't fit him quite right.  
Even interns who lose fingers in the paper shredder know what's happening there.  
\----  
Carlos got it right the night Cecil was pissed. He even set the table and lit candles before Cecil got home. The kitchen smelled wonderful, like Christmas day and Halloween night, and Carlos nearly felt giddy.  
Cecil slammed the door and wanted to crawl into a hole. But then he saw his apartment in the romantic light, saw a delicious meal set out for him, saw Carlos in a little half-apron, holding a wooden spoon.  
“Welcome home. And I do hope this makes up for the asshole you had to deal with in the station earlier.”  
“What…you cooked?” Cecil approached his table, not quite recognizing it. Carlos removed his coat with a small smile, putting it on the coatrack Cecil had blatantly walked past.  
“And listened to your show. Did Station Management take care of that guy?”  
“Yes…they did…What did you cook?” Cecil asked, breathing out the stress of work.  
“Nothing special…Just a little-”  
“Carlos, it looks wonderful…”  
“Well, you should probably taste it first.” Carlos led Cecil to the table, pulled out his chair for him. He sat opposite, and the little Australian Shepherd mix curled under the table, between their feet.  
Cecil’s expression was worth every hour, worth every painstaking guess at flavors, worth everything, but Carlos already knew that. They smiled at each other, candlelight shadows dancing across their cheekbones. There were no leftovers. There were no moments that night Carlos woke from insomnia, no moments Cecil woke from nightmares. They were full, they were relieved, they were elated.   
Yes, even interns who lose fingers in the paper shredder know what's happening there.


End file.
